


The Ol' Fashioned Way

by stitchy



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adoption, Babies, Bottom Eddie, Definitely NOT mpreg tho, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, I think to be safe I have to tag it, Impregnation Kink, It's more feelsy than kinky tbh, M/M, POV Eddie Kaspbrak, Queer Parenthood, Read The Author's Note if you're on the fence, Top Richie, but I would say what they're really engaging in is the fantasy of Reproductive Self Reliance, smut and feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23865169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stitchy/pseuds/stitchy
Summary: “I wish this was easier,” Eddie tells Richie, burrowed into his shoulder. “I wish all it took was me and you.”“-And a stork,” Richie chuckles. “The ol’ fashioned way.”“If only.” Eddie grins at the cartoonish idea. If he’s remembering hisDumbocorrectly, they wouldn’t even need a consistent street address. Fuck all this paperwork, for sure.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 57
Kudos: 387





	The Ol' Fashioned Way

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: This fic contains two cis gay dudes who have had an adoption fall through. To combat their disappointment, they role play as though their sex were handwavingly reproductive. There is no fantasy of having different genitalia, simply that it were so simple as for them to have a baby without intervention or reliance on third parties. There is still a certain dynamic of the top partner being the desired genetic father, however. I can quite understand that this may involve uncomfortable gender feelings, so if any part of that sounds like it's no good, sit this one out.

Everything is happening in slow motion today. Worse, it’s like an old tape, stretching and distorting until the whole fucking tape player is gummed and useless.

It starts when Eddie wakes up, first thing. By habit, he blearily peels himself away from Richie’s side and slaps around the nightstand until he has his phone. He thought he’d cancelled all the reminders that were now painful rather than pertinent, but at least one little traitor slipped through the cracks.

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON'T FORGET THE CAR SEAT

There might be more, all day, so he stuffs his phone under the pillows and goes back to sleep, except he can’t. He stares at the ceiling for hours while he’s _supposed_ to be getting up and making breakfast. While he’s _supposed_ to be taking a shower. While Richie takes out the dog for a morning pee which is _supposed_ to be Eddie’s gig on weekends. No matter how much he might like to, Eddie can’t get moving and do any of the things he’s supposed to be doing today, because he was supposed to become somebody’s dad today, and now he’s not.

There’s another few aimless hours of trying to maybe sleep, or read this book Mike recommended, but it doesn't take. Eventually Richie pokes his head into the bedroom to say he’s taking Doc Brown to the park, and Eddie waves off his invitation, saying he’s got things to catch up on since he got a late start. While Richie doesn’t push it, he _knows_ Richie knows. They both took paternity leave that they couldn’t really un-take, so he’s got a gap in his workload and not much to do but lay around and feel like an asshole.

Awake, but still hiding from his phone, Eddie sits up in bed with his laptop to tidy up his inbox. There are about a dozen emails notifying him that Richie made edits to their shared doc ‘LETTER TO MOMS ABOUT US’. Judging by the timestamp, some of them Richie must have made while sighing on a park bench, wondering what the fuck he was supposed to say to Eddie, like Eddie is wracking his brain for the words to say back.

Things with Janelle fell through about three weeks ago, so it's not like this is a last minute, in the fucking delivery room, written-for-TV dramatic twist. They’ve already had a cry or two about it, by now. And really- really and truly- Eddie’s happy for her, that her parents pulled their heads out of their asses and are offering support and that her kid will be plenty comfortable, but he’s sad for himself and he’s sad for Richie, and he’s sad about the version of this summer he had built up in his head where they’re arguing about if the air conditioning is too cold for the baby, and instead of Richie sitting alone on a park bench, trying to find and fix the detail in their file that keeps throwing would-be birth mothers off, they’re at the park with a stoller, unveiling their new little family to the world. 

Eddie ditches his laptop too, and forces himself to at least have a shower and a shake while Richie is out. That’s progress! Then while he's tossing the Odwalla bottle, he runs into the _Guardians of the Galaxy_ calendar hung over the recycling bin declaring BABY DAY, and he’s back to square one. Even though it’s only the 25th, he flips the page to the next month so they won’t have to look at it again. This month is dumbass fucking Ego, anyway. Shitty dad. (Sorry Kurt Russell).

Not long after that, Doc Brown and Richie get back, and discover him laying face-down and sulking, again. 

“Hey, you made it to the couch,” Richie encourages. He leans down to give Eddie a perfunctory Signing Back In kiss, making do with the back of his still shower-damp head. “Mmm. Juicy.”

Eddie flails out an arm and catches Richie’s leg before he can run away again. He clings to Richie’s knee and pulls and rolls to his side on the couch, so Richie can sit on the edge in front of him.

“Richie...”

“ _Yeah_ ,” he sighs, sinking in and draping his arm around Eddie’s back.

He looks up at Richie and the flat, set line of his mouth. It’s so rare to catch him between some exaggerated expression or other, it’s almost unrecognizable and Eddie hates that. He doesn’t recognize himself either. He wants them both to be happy again. Sure, he wants to be happy _with_ a baby, but they were stupidly happy before with just them and the dog, and that should still be possible, right?

“I’m sorry,” he tells Richie. “I shoulda kicked my own ass and took Doc with you.”

Richie makes the effort to half-smile. “It’s okay, dude, I probably owed you one anyway.”

“It’s not okay, I should be there for you,” Eddie groans. “What the fuck _else_ am I doing right now?”

“We’re both here now. You wanna do something- I dunno- proactive? We can call Hannah and tell her we’re ready to get back on the horse.”

“We’d have to leave a message,” Eddie kinda shrugs into the arm of the couch. 

It’s the weekend, so he’s not dying to bug their social worker. He half imagines that every time they’re vaguely inconsiderate or impatient, she must take out a big red stamp and shove them to the bottom of the pile, and this is already taking long enough. This time they sunk in six months, and it was almost another whole year since they decided to start this process, before that. And anyway- he really doesn’t know if doing something about their adoption today would make him feel better or worse. He can’t torture himself over the phrasing of their letter like Richie is doing, that’s for sure, and the nursery is already overstocked from Eddie’s last few bouts of being ‘proactive’.

“You wanna just vent?” Richie tries again. He raises the hand at Eddie’s back to tweak his ear like a switch and blows a whistling stream of air out of the corner of his mouth. “Or if you’re backed up, I can try and lube up your valve...”

“Is my ear the valve, or my dick?”

“I’m not picky!” In a flash, Richie sucks his finger into his mouth and wiggles it towards Eddie’s head.

He wriggles around to free an arm and push Richie’s hand away just in the nick of time. “Ugh! You can’t give a guy a wet willy when he’s already down, that’s like a fucking honor code violation!”

“So, you admit you’re down, too?” Richie doesn’t let go of Eddie’s hand, wrapped around his. He gets a better hold and rocks it between them like swinging arms down the sidewalk.

“Of course I am,” Eddie says, small and tight.

The look Richie gives him back is just as fragile. “It’s okay to tell me that,” he reminds him. “You don’t have to feel bad alone.”

Not alone like he left Richie, by moping in bed all morning.

Eddie squeezes Richie’s hand back. “It just fucking sucks, ‘cause I feel bad about feeling bad at all. There are like, people who don't have the money to do this in the first place and people who lose pregnancies or are really sick or whatever and that's worse, right?”

“It's not the Disappointment Olympics,” Richie tells him. He pauses, watching Doc scout out a place to nap after his exercise and contemplating his own weariness. “I’m fuckin’ bummed too, Eds. We waited a long time and now...” He raises a hand and drops it futily to his lap again. “We have to start over.”

“I know, I know,” Eddie frowns at Richie’s frown. It’s worse than his neutral face, “-And like, I know actually being parents will be really hard, but I didn’t totally realize how hard it was going to be _becoming_ parents to start with, like, for us specifically, which was so fucking stupid. By the book, wham, bam, nine months later was never on the table! And I know we said this wasn’t gonna happen by _accident_ when we started, but if it’s not an accident then I feel like-?” Eddie looks at Richie pleadingly, hopelessly. “Like we should have more control than this?”

It looks like it’s cracking Richie down the middle not to be able to help, _right now_. The wrinkle between his eyebrows has never been deeper. “I wish I could give you that, Eds. I’d give you anything.”

“I know,” Eddie says. “I know your dumbass would walk through a tornado in a knife factory for me.”

He stretches out his arms to pull Richie down to him by the neck. It takes a little re-configuring, but they get it so they’re laying together, with Richie’s comforting weight on top of him. Neither of them is the only one going through this. If they hold tight together they’ll only each get one side stuck full of knives, right?

“I wish this was easier,” he tells Richie, burrowed into his shoulder. “I wish all it took was me and you.”

“-And a stork,” Richie chuckles. “The ol’ fashioned way!”

“If only.” Eddie grins at the cartoonish idea. If he’s remembering his _Dumbo_ correctly, they wouldn’t even need a consistent street address. Fuck all this paperwork, for sure. “We _should_ call Hannah at some point this week, though,” he relents. That’s the closest thing to a stork they’ve got.

“Yeah,” Richie agrees.

A long silence stretches between them, because at this point there’s nothing more they can offer other than intentions. Leaving a message for their social worker today or getting a hold of her tomorrow doesn't really make a difference in the grand scheme of things. It’s still gonna be months of process and waiting while trying not to risk getting their hopes dashed, but also definitely falling in love with the idea of their baby, all over again. It's exhausting to keep bashing their heads against that kind of wall. If only they had some sort of certainty to hold on to, Eddie’s sure it’d be easier to face. Even if it was only enough to keep the nerve up to call Hannah tomorrow, instead of backsliding in their depression like they had all month.

 _Hmm_.

“Richie?”

“Eddie,” Richie stamps his name to his neck with a kiss.

“Can we pretend this is easier? Just for a bit?”

They like to pretend. They always have. They play fight and they roleplay as much at forty-something as they ever did as kids, only now Richie’s Voices are actually good. Some are downright irresistible. Richie’s strapping stableboy who’s always down for a roll in the hay? _Aww shucks, Ah don’t mind if Ah do._

“Hmm?”

This would be a kind of wacky even for them, but fuck if imagining it just now didn’t make Eddie feel the deepest flush of joy he’s felt in a month. He swallows a hungry lump in his throat. “We could pretend like we’re gonna have a baby- like we really _could_.”

Richie hasn’t quite latched on. He holds Eddie’s face in his hands. “That's not pretending. We _are_ gonna have a baby, Eddie,” he says, directly. He seals that promise with a kiss. “It’s gonna happen for us. I promise, I promise,” he swears, with more fervent kisses.

The foggy feeling that’s been congesting his chest starts to break apart at the sound of Richie’s surety, and Eddie can feel the light Richie always shines on him again, so warm all over. He nods his creeping grin into Richie’s. “Can you promise me? Tell me you’ll give me a baby?”

“I’m gonna give you a baby, Eddie,” Richie says automatically.

Eddie whimpers and slides his hands down Richie’s back. He pushes his hands into his back pockets, gripping his ass and rolling their hips together. “Again,” he asks. “Say you’ll give me your baby.”

Richie nuzzles their foreheads together and kisses the bridge of Eddie’s nose. “I’ll give you _our_ baby.”

A shudder banishes every remaining trace of heartache in Eddie. “Please Rich,” he breathes, letting it out. “ _Inside me_.”

“Uhh?” Richie pauses, hanging over Eddie.

“Richie,” Eddie cranes up and kisses him, instead. “I want you to take me,” he mutters against Richie’s mouth. “That’s how I would want it. Your baby. Your fucking hairy, invincible French Canadian farmer genes. You’re _never_ sick, and you’re so fucking big, and handsome and- and fuck me full of you and just _tell me_ you’d make a baby with me.”

A sound one might describe as bovine escapes from Richie. “ _M_ _wwha-_ yeahuh? Yeah? What do you want me to- what are we talkin about here?” he asks, game but understandably unclear. The frustration that had been etching Richie’s face is melting away, and his eyebrows do a quizzical dance instead. “Do you, uh? Want me to say your body is like, different?”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t want to do one of those creepy black and white shirtless belly photoshoots or whatever, I just. I want to just be with you, like it's gonna happen and it’ll be _easy_ for us,” he says. “And like it’s _not_ paperwork and money and a million appointments. I just want you inside me, saying you’ll _give me a baby_ and it’ll be like-”

Richie lights up. “ _Like we’re making our baby.”_ He mashes his lips to Eddie’s again, urgent in his agreement. “I got it, Eds, I gotcha. I can do that. I can give you easy,” he says, understanding. They can make their own control, make their own baby. It doesn't matter when it’s finally born, here and now is where it came from.

Eddie goes berserk under Richie, thanking him, kissing him, moving to get the fleshy part of his thigh against Richie so he can rub him hard, so he can fill Eddie up, so they can have this one thing on their own fucking terms.

“I love you so much, you have no fucking idea, Rich.”

“You’re begging to have my baby so I _may_ have my suspicions.”

Then all too suddenly, Richie pushes up off the couch. He stands and turns around on the spot like he can’t make up his mind which direction to go, arms reaching ahead of him as he paces a quick, tight circle. “Wait, do you want like? Candles?” he asks. “Rose petals? Music? Should I carry you to bed?”

“Uhh.” If Richie hadn’t stopped, Eddie most definitely would have let Richie fuck him on the couch, in his haze. Eddie pulls on the back of the seat to sit himself up. “Are we suddenly curated soundtrack during sex people?” Historically Eddie is pretty confident they are I Feel Like Fucking Right Now I Don’t Care If C-SPAN, Barry White, Or Whale Song Is Playing people.

“I don’t know,” Richie throws his hands up. “My dad just always used to make cracks every time The Spinners came on the radio!” He launches into a flawless impression of Wentworth Tozier, steering wheel in hand. “ _Hey Mags, you used to be uh... a Spinner, right? Richie did you hear about this? Your mom was a Spinner before you were born_?”

Eddie can easily imagine his mother-in-law in the passenger seat making the same pinched face he’s making now. “Oh god, it’s genetic,” he groans.

“It went way over my head until I was like, twenty-three working at the radio station, and then one day I got a request for The Spinners and it suddenly hit me.” Richie smacks his own forehead. “That’s what they must’ve boned down to!”

Eddie clears his throat. “Yeah, well your- _that’s gross-_ but your parents- that’s memorable I guess...”

Richie sticks out a hand and pulls Eddie up off the couch and into his arms. “That’s what I’m sayin’. Let’s make this memorable, honey bunny! Don’t you wanna tease each other about this for a decade or two?” He sways Eddie in his embrace, grinning down at him. If they really could do it, there isn’t a face Eddie would want a miniature copy of more than Richie’s. He loves that infectious smile and those friendly eyes, even if their kid turned out as blind as bat. It’d be like lighting $100k on fire, but fuck, maybe they do need to revisit the topic of surrogacy.

Eddie tip-toes up to him, hovering just a breath away from a kiss. “I guess so. It’ll be pretty memorable if I throw up on you for calling me honey bunny.”

Richie snickers into their connection, especially at Eddie’s vindictive nibble of his lower lip. “Yeah. Get in bed let _me_ handle setting the mood then. Your instincts for it are all wrong.” He kisses Eddie once more and then claps a hand on his ass to send him off.

Eye rolling pet names aside, Eddie knows Richie is a natural born romantic, so if this is what makes it special for him, then so be it. He slinks off down the hall while Richie turns on their TV to surf for the right Pandora channel with which to flood the house.

For the first time in three weeks, when he passes the closed door of the nursery Eddie doesn’t feel like he has to look away, or else he’ll crumble into dust. For a moment he hesitates, but then he cracks it open, and he’s so glad he does. The powdery scent of store bought baby things wafts out, and despite how delicate it is, his eyes water. This is where he’ll take care of their baby one day. This is where he’ll comfort it in the night and change it and listen to Richie make squeaky little voices that will make it giggle better than any toy. This room, with its fresh painted walls they changed three times, and the strange portrait of an elephant wearing a bowler hat that Richie insisted his mother dig out of her basement in Maine- this will be where the two of them keep their joined heart.

The TV remote clatters to the coffee table, with Richie having settled on some early Soul music. A moment later he comes up behind Eddie and circles his arms around him in the nursery door. For a long moment, they just gaze into it together.

“Just missing one little thing,” Richie says. He drops a sweet kiss on Eddie’s shoulder. “-A half pipe.”

Eddie snorts at the mental imagine of Richie sending a tiny skateboarder down the slope, bundled in the big squashy pillows he insisted on for a reading corner. He had all kinds of great ideas like that, for reading corners and keepsake boxes and cheap jokes.

“You’re gonna be the best dad,” he tells Richie.

“Nope. You are,” he shoots right back.

Ridiculous.

“Uh, no, I’m going in blind, that is impossible.”

“You’ve read like, every book. I’ve caught you reading and audiobooking two different dad books at the same time. You’re a beast.”

Eddie peers over his shoulder skeptically. “But you actually had first hand experience with a good dad,” he points out.

“Well, if that’s the criteria then you’re gonna rock this kid’s world, for sure.” Richie squeezes him tight. “‘Cause _I’m_ gonna be a fantastic dad, but you have never once in your life let me be better than you at anything. You’re faster than me, you’re a better cook- you’re funnier than me and it’s my fuckin’ _job_. You’re gonna be the best dad because you’ll look at what I’m doing and then go be even better than me, you asshole.”

Eddie laughs. “All right.” He pulls out of Richie’s arms and catches his hands instead, backing down the hallways towards their bedroom. He narrows his eyes at Richie. “Show me how it’s done, then, daddy.”

“I can’t wait,” Richie says, returning a blazing look. He rushes Eddie, kissing and crashing them back through their door and handling him easily down onto the bed. Eddie doesn’t know when his shirt came off, but now there are tender hands all over him. Richie is on him, everywhere at once. “I want this so much,” he tells Eddie, kissing down his body. He frames each one with the diamond shape of his spread thumbs and forefingers, starting at the base of his throat and traveling down his chest. “I want you so much, Eddie. You’re the only person I have ever wanted this with. You’re the only one I want my baby with.”

“Richie, come on-“ Eddie urges, scrambling, trying to simultaneously be in constant contact and yet remove himself enough to get Richie’s clothes off too. He tears Richie’s tee overhead and plunders his messy hair while he keeps kissing down Eddie’s stomach. “Oh my god. Oh fucking god, come on, I need you. I only need _you_ , Richie.”

“S’right, Eddie,” Richie says, between kisses that get sloppier and wetter the further south he goes. He looks up from Eddie’s navel and locks eyes with him, panting a little. “All it takes is me and you. We’ll make _our_ baby and no one can take it away.”

“Just us,” Eddie nods back. Him and Richie and baby. The only three concepts he is mentally capable of right now. Nothing else. He feels like he’s been run through a sieve, and everything most precious has been brought to the top. Richie touches him like he’s gold, too, polishing him with the heat of his mouth and admiring every inch as he makes Eddie glow. Each lap of his tongue is more brilliant than the last.

Finally he reaches Eddie’s waist. “Do you wanna come before or while I fuck you?” He noses into the soft material of Eddie’s sweatpants and covers his bulge with one hand, stroking up and down.

“Oh fuck, before.” Eddie arches off the bed so Richie can pull down his sweatpants, but then he grabs his own dick. He’s already leaking from being so expertly teased. “I’ll jerk myself off.” He doesn’t want to waste any time getting Richie in him, but it’ll feel so fucking good when he’s already come and Richie keeps storming his flooded senses. He wants to be awash in Richie, inside and out. Eddie draws up his knees to beckon him closer. “Open me up already,” he demands.

“Oh, shit,” Richie licks his lips, watching Eddie work his own dick. “Okay. You got it.” He shakes himself to sense and leans over to the edge of the bed and rifles around their nightstand for a bottle of lube. Ever Eddie’s most loyal attendant, he offers a glob to him first before helping himself. 

“Fuck, you’re the best, Richie.”

“We like, just settled that argument,” Richie sighs fondly, guiding Eddie’s knees farther apart. He leans in between them and rasps his stubbly cheek at the soft skin of his thigh. “ _You_ are, Eds. At everything except remembering you’re the best. Luckily-” Richie smirks as he teases Eddie’s rim, _“-this_ is where I come in.”

“Shit,” Eddie hisses at the breach. His fist races on his dick at the sight of Richie and his beefy arm flexing as he presses into him, deeper and deeper. A sheen of sweat crowns him as Eddie’s his perfect mate. He looks so good getting Eddie open for him, stretching him so he can fill him up with his equally beefy dick. So good it makes his stomach ache. Eddie moans. “Oh fuck, Rich. I want you to really come in me.”

“ _Hkk,_ god _!”_ Richie chokes. He shoves his glasses back up his nose and smears his open mouth at Eddie’s thigh with a growl. “Warn a dude.”

“This _is_ the warning.” Eddie writhes on his fingers, jerking like a downed, high voltage wire. He’s a hazard that must be taken seriously. But Richie always does.

“You _sure_ you’re not gonna yell at me after?” A fair question, when every single time Eddie has bottomed for Richie before this he’s absolutely insisted on a condom. But Eddie’s not feeling fair, he’s feeling fucking electric.

“Yeah? Fucking give me your come,” he snaps. “How else are we gonna make a baby?”

Richie wheezes. “Yeah, yeah good point. Well! Keep talking like that I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem for me...” He slops Eddie’s knee with another kiss that’s more of a gnaw, really, and pushes his leg into a deeper bend.

“Hhha! Rich, yeah, _right there_. Just like that.”

“Yeah?” Richie zeroes in on him. He beckons at Eddie’s prostate, inviting him to pleasure. “That good, buddy?”

“Yeah, _fuck_. I’m right there.” Eddie shuffles his grip just at the top of his dick, cupping the head into the palm of his hand and watching Richie’s mouth scorch another kiss at his thigh. “Rich, would you-?”

Of course, Richie understands, he always understands what Eddie needs. With a wordless yelp, he immediately bends to suck Eddie down.

“Unn, ohfffff _-uck_ ,” Eddie swears. “Yeah, Richie, yeah.”

He tightens, feeling every minute bend of Richie’s fingers inside him, in perfect concert with the effort of his mouth. He can feel Richie pushing himself further, taking more, giving more. He shares all he’s got with Eddie. He’d give Eddie _anything_ , he said. He’d give _himself_ to Eddie so they can make something new from their love. With a choked out profession of that love, Eddie spills down Richie’s throat, combining their heat and want.

Richie gasps off of his spent cock and climbs up the bed to him, scattering kisses as he goes. “I love you, too, gorgeous.” He licks a salty stripe up Eddie’s neck and lowers his body, rumbling happily against Eddie’s own limp-limbed satisfaction.

Well. He’s _almost_ satisfied. 

Eddie tilts his hips into Richie’s. “Prove it.”

“Gladly.” Richie kisses him filthily, daring any objections to his stickiness. Luckily Eddie’s already made up his mind that’s exactly what he wants out of him right now. He licks the taste of himself off Richie’s lips, tastier than it’s ever been- just another in a thousand demonstrations that their blending would be perfect. Richie pulls back and looks into his eyes, his own dark and desirous. “You ready for me?" he murmurs. "You want me inside you, Eds?” 

“I need you,” Eddie gulps against the lump in his throat. "Come on, Richie. Just you and me, like we said." As he pleads, Richie lines himself up, daubing the blunt head of his cock at Eddie’s already fucked and throbbing hole. Eddie cants toward him, going mad with the anticipation as he keeps _almost_ dipping in. “Richie,” he trembles.

“More lube,” Richie decides, torturously.

“Aghh.”

He twiddles the bottle at Eddie and chuckles. “Shuttup, I’m taking care of you- s’what you want isn’t it? A big, strong, caring father figure for your baby?”

Eddie’s face burns as he bites his lip. “Yeah,” he admits. “That’s exactly what I want.” He’s so fucking in love with the idea of Dad Richie it’s embarrassing in comparison to how much he already loved Husband Richie. That fucker’s cute, but he never stood a chance.

“Good,” says Richie. “That’s what you’re getting- no backsies.”

“I lost your receipt anyway,” Eddie rolls his eyes.

“I guess you’ll just have to put up with me,” Richie grins. Having fingered more slick into Eddie’s hole, he draws his legs around his waist.

“Put it _in_ me, already.”

Richie bridges himself over Eddie, then. “I love you. I love when you fucking take my joke and run with it. I love it when you shut me down but laugh anyway. I love you so much I’m gonna make a baby with you just so we can terrorize a new generation with our bullshit.”

Eddie nods furiously as Richie eases into him, then. “I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much,” he stammers, scrambling to get a hold of Richie’s hips and bring them together faster.

Just like he wanted, when Richie fills him it throws Eddie’s already stimulated system into overdrive. He burns from the inside out, every thrust of their bodies together like a chain reaction up his spine. _They met, they loved each other, they lost each other, they met again, they’re in love, they’re a family_ \- one astonishing event after another, building to this.

“Oh fuck, this feels really good,” Richie grits, eyes clenched. “I’m just realizing I’ve never done this before.”

Eddie hangs around his neck and kisses him desperately. “Wha?" Eddie asks, but then he realizes. “Don’t say ‘raw dog it’ right now, _don’t say it,_ I’ll- I’ll unfuck you forever!”

Richie laughs.

But it does feel... _extremely fucking good_. Maybe his ass can’t feel the difference as distinctly as Richie’s dick can- but Eddie can feel the difference in Richie. He’s only been inside Eddie for a minute, but his breathing is already as ragged as that flannel shirt that Doc Brown keeps stealing from the laundry. He puffs and whines in Eddie’s ear like he might cry, which has never happened while he was doing the fucking, before.

“Just listen to you,” Eddie soothes him, petting his shivering sides. “Talk about a- _uhn-_ memorable soundtrack...”

Richie sputters another laugh between thrusts. “ _Hey kids, gather ‘round._ Hnn _. Let me tell you about the time your dear old dads balled so hard I-_ oh fuck I’m gonna black out, Eddie. Your tight little ass is just. Too fucking good.”

Eddie loses track of his own wind for a second, unable to get a decent breath in as Richie dives headlong into a frantic pace. “You- you okay?”

“GreatI’mjustgonnacome.”

All the air that isn’t in Eddie’s lungs is in his head, making it dizzy and light. He grapples tighter to Richie, taking anchor. “Yeah, _c’mon_. I want it. I want your baby, Richie, I want it _so much_. We’re- we’re gonna love our baby so freaking much.”

“Yeah,” Richie grunts, driving harder. Eddie’s bones feel like they might shoot out through the top of his head and his kneecaps. “ _Guh-_ gonna give you a baby, honey.”

Eddie can feel the muscles in Richie’s back seize under his hands as he gets closer and closer, and then his pace breaks down and Eddie feels _molten_ inside. “ _Ohgodohgod_. Fucking fill me- fill me up, Rich.”

“Fuck, oh fuck-” Richie sobs, pumping through his orgasm, burying himself deep, right where Eddie wants it. “Wanna keep fucking you til it takes.”

“ _Uh huhn_.” Shit, if Richie could take it a little longer, Eddie could maybe come dry in a bit, he’s _so_ incandescently happy, feels _so_ fucking good. This is enough, though- this is definitely enough.

“Let's make us a baby, Eddie.”

“ _Yeah."_ Eddie lets go of a shaky exhale, and a tear along with it.

Richie pounds his last with a grunt, then falls off his elbows and into the sweaty cushion of Eddie’s body. He welcomes Richie into a muddled kiss, his mouth landing everywhere between the left lens of his glasses and the bristly underside of his jaw _except_ for his mouth. Richie giggles at the tickle. He finds Eddie’s face and pays him some equally disoriented affection, mostly in the neighborhood of his right eye.

“Bleh, eyelash,” Richie recoils. He sticks his tongue out and tries to remove the offense by swiping it on Eddie’s collarbone instead. “Bleh! Chest hair!”

“I don’t know what else you were expecting!” Eddie chuckles.

He lays back to relax and tries not to worry about the cool dribble between his legs for a minute, because he did promise. Richie makes that easy, sliding down his torso on a tour of more body hair he can pick a fight and/or make out with. His slick tongue visits every inch of the light scrub on on his chest, one nipple, then the next-

“ _Pit hair_ ,” he discovers with his tongue.

“Ah!” Eddie jumps, eyes opening again. He should have anticipated that, but he’s too blissed out to be on guard for Richie’s shenanigans. Suspicious now, he smushes the pillow behind his head to better watch Richie, now pressing kisses over his heart. “Let me know if you see any new moles, I guess.”

“Yeah, dude. That’s always my main motivation for getting you naked.”

Eddie pets his sweaty head. “I thought it was so you could Sharpie dicks onto me.”

“That was _one time_ , and it wasn’t dicks, it was a giraffe _near_ your dick saying ‘My Property’ which you totally deserved for calling me names in the first place!”

“Still haven’t got you back for that, yet,” Eddie snickers.

“Wuh oh.”

“But keep doing what you’re doing and I might be lenient.”

“Yessir,” Richie salutes and returns to duty.

He pokes his nose and then his tongue into Eddie’s belly button, lavishing it and the patch of hair just below. He pauses there, lips pressed to flesh, and hums. “Do you think it worked?” he wonders.

“I hate to disappoint you, but there is nothing in there but an Odwalla.”

“Nah,” Richie waves at him. “I mean like- wouldn’t it be crazy if there’s some hapless nineteen year old out there right now, and in a month we get a call from our social worker...”

“...That would be pretty crazy,” Eddie agrees generously. He’s not gonna be too picky, waiting for some kind of sign, though. He’d take a four year old tomorrow, if he could, and he’s pretty sure Richie would too. Something to consider together before they do talk to Hannah.

“Still,” says Richie. He rubs his cheek on Eddie’s stomach and smiles. “I already love you baby, wherever you are. If you wanna hurry up already so you can leverage that for a convertible when you turn sixteen-”

“Oh, dream on,” Eddie laughs.

“You’re right, you’re right. Our babies will have fucking _spaceships_ by the time they’re sixteen.”

“ _Babies?”_

Richie roams lower, touching his chin into Eddie’s dick and then his absurdly wide grin. He flutters a lick at the head and then shoots a look back up at Eddie. “Yeah, you wanna double our odds? Go for twins?”

Eddie rolls his hips at the touch of another persuasive lick. “Oh, what the hell.”


End file.
